


Thy Kingdom Come

by BurrrdBrainedInsomnia



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, Rating might go up, Weddings, pinning, tags added as needed, Íþróttaálfurinn needs a vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurrrdBrainedInsomnia/pseuds/BurrrdBrainedInsomnia
Summary: He hated banquets. Too many people, too much food and too much noise.---In which there is a wedding, a kingdom is threatened and help shows itself from an unexpected source.





	1. Necessary evils

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kingdom AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/293691) by Ithro-glaepur. 



> https://ithro-glaepur.tumblr.com/ Had a beautiful AU that I sorta took and ran with - https://ithro-glaepur.tumblr.com/post/158650361162/au-where-ithro-and-sportacus-are-princes-and
> 
> Please go show them some love!
> 
>  
> 
> This is going to be relatively short (I'm thinking four chapters, roughly 15.000 words or so).  
> \- this is my second fic, so eh... please be kind (And I did not give up on 'Eversion' quite far from it - Already got 53.800+ words on it, just need to get over this goddamn writers blog that suddenly came over me before I continue on it.)
> 
> If anyone wishes for specific tags to be added, just ask! I want you all safe and happy!

He _hated_ banquets. Too many people, too much food and too much noise.

If it had not been his duty – and his father’s wish – to attend the aftermath of the king’s second wedding, he would not _be_ here. Not that his father’s wedding had not been nice, _it had_. It was the rest of the formal parts of it, which he disliked.

The elf in front of him cleared her slender throat and continued on the marvelous tale she had once heard on a trip to the Rotten Kingdom. It had something to do with two human teenagers falling in love. A tragedy of some sorts. He wanted to point out that what she had already recounted sounded more like lust between two adolescents than actual love.

Íþróttaálfurinn breathed in heavily and let his gaze wonder over the noisy crowd, no longer hearing a single word of what the elf in front of him was saying.

The hall was beautiful, no doubt about that. Rows upon rows of perfectly cut and tended to flowers littered in thick, elegant vases along the high walls. Each bouquet was unique in appearance, yet they managed to keep a red thread throughout the different variations that the guests had brought. It was tradition that each guest bring at least one flower to represent the family from which they stemmed from – the actual placing and binding of the colorful goods was up to the staff of the castle itself.

But of course, the delicate beauty of arranged _flowers_ hardly made up for the slight unease, that he felt in a specific few of the gathered. Those who whispered in hushed, scandalous tones, which he politely ignored. Those who _knew._

Rumors had it that someone wished to conspire against the throne. That meant that this evening could potentially become hostile to his father’s immediate health. Seeing, as he was the first heir to the throne, his little brother the second, meant _they_ could potentially be in danger as well, albeit they did not know why or where that threat would come from.

The merry music was, as said, a bit too loud, the melody one that was the kind of _almost_ slow enough to fade into the background and yet fast enough to make one want to spontaneously break into dance. In fact, quite a few of the guests had already given in and delightfully danced along. He wished to join, but he was still quite… caught up at the moment.

He gave a polite nod and hummed in acknowledgement, the short elf in front of him yet to catch up on the fact that his mind was still elsewhere entirely.

His foot kept tapping – perhaps a bit too hard - against the cold, white marble floor below, while his arms were crossed tightly over his leather-clad chest. A few words of the tale reached his mind and he could not help but scoff slightly. _He could at least have waited. He could have made **sure**_ **.**

The sounds of the violin had picked up again, subtle but distracting enough to make him loose focus of the conversation, he _should_ be engaging in. Again.

The crowd parted for a second and Íþróttaálfurinn caught sight of his sweet little brother, dancing among the crowd of smiling faces. _He_ was happy and that was enough.

There was a sudden absence of chatter in front of him and Íþróttaálfurinn quickly made a small, polite sound of acknowledgment, while nodding his head again for good measure, hoping it was at the right moment to do so. The elfs focus had remained solely on his brother – not paranoid over recent events, just… watchful - and so it took him a while to realize that he had in fact been asked a question. The elf quickly set into a small fit of coughs, hoping to get enough time to come up with a fitting answer.

He didn’t.

‘’Sorry I- … What did you say?’’ The elf he had been talking with was about to politely repeat, when she seemed to realize just how distracted Íþróttaálfurinn actually was. She gave a small huff in annoyance and decided to completely give up on whatever she had wanted to ask, instead starting on a completely different topic. Something about dragons and caves… The crowd had swallowed up his little brother again and so he kept an eye out, eager to keep watch of him. To _guard._

It took several minutes before he caught another glimpse. This time his little brother was no longer dancing.

Íþróttaálfurinn crossed his arms over his chest and considered his options, as he watched the three brash faes, one male and two females, chat up his clearly distressed brother. His social counterpart – albeit she did not seem to care - already considered him immensely rude and so he only felt a tiny tinge of bad conscience at his choice.

‘’Excuse me.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn, albeit a bit short in his tone, apologized and gently touched her shoulder to push past. He knew it was highly impolite, but the safety of his little brother was a priority. This was an elven kingdom, but more than one race remained within its walls and you just never _knew_ with the Unseelie. Especially now.

He quickly grabbed a glass of red wine from a nearby tray and made his way over to his brother, forcefully positioning himself into the small circle of vultures. The male in the group gave a quick polite nod, which the elf hastily returned. As for the females, one of them was a tall dark-haired beauty, who untactfully gave him a quick not so subtle once-over, huffing at what she saw.  As for the other female… If looks could kill, he would surely be dead. She was a bit shorter than the others were, and from the looks of it, a whole lot stronger than the two combined - broad shoulders shaking in barely contained fury at haven been interrupted. Her hand shook slightly as well, causing the fragile glass in her hand to tremble, its red contents within threatening to spill over the edge and down on the stark, marble floor.

He politely tipped his glass at her, the two others – and, albeit a bit clumsily, his brother as well - immediately raised their glasses in a toast, obviously relieved to reduce some of the thick tension that had erupted over the small group. They all took a sip. She, however, did not.

Íþróttaálfurinn merely smiled and pinned the fae with a stone hard glare, _daring_ her to engage.

Several moments passed in a tense, uncomfortable silence, before finally, she decided the wisest cause of action was to back down. With a huff which boarded on supercilious, she turned on her heal, gesturing for the others to follow, which they obediently did.

Íþróttaálfurinn raised his own glass again and tipped it at her retrieving back, raising it higher still to drain the rest in one go.

_Gods,_ he hated banquets.

While it was far from the first time his little brother had had to participate in these sort of events, he was not nearly as accustomed to the general banter between high-class people as Íþróttaálfurinn was.

‘’Did you eat yet?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn softly asked, breaking Sportacus out of his stupor.

‘’No.’’ he replied meekly.

‘’Then do it now.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn urged, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. The small, grateful smile, which broke out over his brothers gentle features at that, made the entire face-off worth it.

_It will be less than two hours before the event is_ _over_ he mused. It would likely be at least another thirty minutes before his father arrived back to partake in the wedding waltz. His brother would be fine. He could do this. They could _both_ do this.

Sportacus had arrived at his destination and had set to happily scoop a rich spoonful of potatoes and cabbage onto his plate. The food was still plentiful, but it was obvious that the dozens of merry guests that littered the floor, chairs and couches about, had already consumed a large chunk of the buffet itself.

As he pondered, Íþróttaálfurinn absently swirled the non-existing contents of his wineglass around before lifting it to his lips, having momentarily forgotten that it was in fact empty. At the disappointing discovery, he let out a tiny sigh and quickly scouted the hall for a replacement. He quickly found what he was looking for and was about to go and get his much-needed refill, when a tall man cut straight into his path, thick pink coat swinging elegantly as he came to a halt right in front of the elf.


	2. What has been said...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Íþróttaálfurinn - not completely voluntarily - gets in a royal mess.
> 
> (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind comments I just?? Thank you ! <3
> 
> If anyone wants to have specific tags added to this fic, just say the word! Also, English is not my first language and I do not have a beta, so if you notice any hard-to-ignore grammar or spelling, feel free to let me know.

‘’ _There_ you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.’’

‘’I-‘’ the elf started lamely, eyes blinking rapidly in obvious confusion, as he was forced to stop dead in his tracks. ‘’Do I know you?’’

‘’In a way.’’ The stranger said cryptically with a wink. ‘’Regardless, you are _going_ to.’’ He stated in a self-assured tone, as though voicing it would be enough to make it come true. ‘’So, I hear you are to marry soon? What a shame.’’ The stranger continued as though he had a right to even _talk_ to Íþróttaálfurinn and he should feel offended right about now, he really should but- ‘’She’s gorgeous though. Such a soft and fine little dame she is, indeed indeed.’’ he chuckled and nodded in the direction of his fiancé, who had fallen into a fierce, hushed conversation with three overindulged elves. ‘’Come to think of marriage, where is your darling papa? I would _much_ like to congratulate him. By the way, is this his second marriage now? Such a busy man, but hey, he sure has the looks to go about as he pleases.’’

This stranger had no right to comment on such things. He ought to voice his complains right about now, _a threat_ even and yet… He found that he had been rendered completely speechless.

The stranger raised his glass and let it clink against his hesitant – still empty - own, before tipping it back and drained it all in one go. The motion briefly exposed his long, strong throat and _gods_ he was downright _beautiful._

He realized that he must have been staring in obvious bewilderment, when the stranger in front of him laughed, single hand coming up to politely shield his grinning mouth.

‘’I somehow feel I should know you, but I do not. Who are you?’’ he demanded, suddenly realizing how dry his own throat had gotten. He _really_ needed that refill.

‘’Oh so impolite of me, the name is Rikki.’’ The man named Rikki stated as though _that_ part was what was offensive. He quickly shifted his glass into his left hand and extended his now empty right one.

Íþróttaálfurinn hesitantly shook it, strangely afraid that any skin contact would shatter whatever illusion he had clearly been put under.

It didn’t.

‘’Rikki.’’ The man repeated with a smirk, as he squeezed the elfs hand with surprising strength.

‘’Íþróttaálfurinn.’’ The elf politely replied, properly introducing himself.

‘’Oh I _know_.’’ The man said with a wink and to the elfs confused dismay, started to turn away from him. ‘’Shall we?’’ he asked over his shoulder and gestured towards a table in the far corner. He meant to have a drink with him? _The nerve_. Then again… It could not hurt.

The elf quickly did a once-over of the room, wanting to make sure his brother had been left in peace and had in fact not fallen prey to any chatty creatures. Sportacus, safe and sound, looked up and gave a quick wave in acknowledgement, before bowing his head to happily continue the ravishing of his portion.

Íþróttaálfurinn gave a small, fond smile in his direction, before looking back to find that the handsome stranger had actually not waited for him to follow. Momentarily annoyed by the indelicate act, the elf let out a huff and quickly made his way over to where Rikki had sat down. The man gestured to the seat closes to the wall and Íþróttaálfurinn did not question it.

‘’So, what brings you here?’’ the elf asked, while adjusting himself slightly on the hard wooden chair. His father insisted on the type, and Íþróttaálfurinn was well aware that it was not his place to question it.

‘’Nothing in particular, I suppose I merely came here to have a good time.’’ Rikki laughed again, hand coming up to tip his pink hat at him.

The answer in itself was good enough, but the elf could not help the strange feeling of something urgent nagging at him, though he was greatly uncertain as to what it could possibly be.

‘’And are you?’’

‘’Am I what?’’

‘’Are you enjoying yourself.’’

‘’Oh _darling_ yes, how could I not when I have the fortunate pleasure of being in the company of a prince.’’

Íþróttaálfurinn just stared at him, hand coming up for his cheek to rest against. This whole thing was too surreal.

‘’You however, do not look to be at your best?’’ Rikki remarked in a carefully neutral voice. Íþróttaálfurinn did not owe the man an answer and so he did not give one. He did however, feel his left leg start to nervously bounce, eager to move, but not truly willing to get up just yet.

His brother had gotten up by some point and were now dancing with two not-so-hostile-looking elves. He noticed Íþróttaálfurinns stare and waved happily at him.

In front of him, Rikki huffed. ‘’You know, it’s highly rude to ignore a guest like that.’’ He commented dryly.

Íþróttaálfurinn gave a small hum in acknowledgement but otherwise stayed his tongue. The nagging feeling had not gone away and he had a sneaking suspicion as to _why_ that could be.

‘’Why are you really here?’’ he demanded in a nonchalant voice while leaning more weight on the hand that were holding most of his head by now.

‘’What?’’

‘’This is a royal event. _You_ do not seem to belong.’’

‘ _’Pardon?_ ’’ Rikki spat, clearly offended. Hah, He had managed to make the offender offended.

‘’This is a wedding.’’ The elf began, allowing himself a tired sigh, completely dropping the polite act. ‘’People do not come to have a good time and celebrate themselves. Look around you, do you truly believe these people are having fun?’’ he asked. ‘’The answer is no. True, they come here because they want something, but it is not _fun_ they seek.’’

Rikki gave him a flat, unimpressed look ‘’Well you sure are a constant downer, huh.’’ he commented dryly. ‘’The fuck do you people do at banquets then, eat and bicker amongst yourselves? _The fuck_ kind of kingdom is that.’’

The elf narrowed his eyes at the other. _Bingo._

‘’Surely this is not your first banquet?’’ None of those invited were first timers. If this was indeed Rikki’s first attendance, then he had crashed the banquet. If that was the case, he should probably throw the man out; possibly even have him arrested for trespassing at such a private event. Of course, that was only _if_ the other was actually not invited.

In the end, Íþróttaálfurinn found that he did not really care.

Rikki did not answer his question. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and seemed to search the elfs face for something. He did not seem overly fond of what he found. Or rather _didn’t_ find.

‘’What the hell has happened to you.’’ He asked on a peculiar soft voice. Strange, the man almost sounded concerned.

It was quite weird. It did not feel like he had just met this stranger, but _clearly_ he would have remembered such a pretty face and the offensive nature that came with it. In fact, he could hardly recall ever meeting a less tactful person and while it could have been an act… no, his offensive nature was _definitely_ no act. Actually, now that he was thinking about it, there _was_ one person he had met who could rival Rikki’s bad manners, but _clearly_ this was someone else. Or… was it? _No that could not be._

Íþróttaálfurinn hid his face in his hands and breathed out hard. He was uncertain if it was the wine making his memory fuzzy or if he could genuinely not remember _why_ it felt like he had met this stranger before, but one thing was certain. It irked him.

‘’Who are you.’’ He demanded while raising his head slightly to gaze the others reaction.

‘’I already told you, do try to pay attention.’’ Rikki replied with a small, hesitant chuckle.

‘’Did you now.’’ The elf stated, voice sounding more tired than accusing, eyes finding the form of his still-moving brother. **_He is happy. It is enough._**

He did not expect an answer and he did not get one. ‘’Something distracting you elf?’’ Rikki remarked instead, voice chipped and cold. Something had changed in the man’s demeanor, the friendly façade had dropped and all at once, the elf knew with certainty, it _had_ been a façade.

Íþróttaálfurinn had just opened his mouth to spit another tired remark, when he was interrupted by the deafening, unmistakable sound of someone flipping a table - perfect clear chimes ringing out and joining the great crash of the table, as several glasses and bowls shattered across the ground in thick cascades of glistering shards. In retrospect, it had been quite beautiful and he would later describe the fall as that of a thousand diamonds falling to a sharp demise.

In the present however, it had been quite unnerving.

At once, everyone seemed to hold his or her breath, and for a single, perfect moment, all was still.

Íþróttaálfurinn allowed himself the small, almost desperate hope that the incident had stemmed from a burst of fierce, pent up frustration from one of the guests and not from something else. Something much more _malicious._ To his great dismay, that hope was promptly snuffed out, as several chairs and tables succumbed to the same fate in a matter of mere seconds.

As though they all had a shared consciousness, those gathered seemed to simultaneously realize what was happening.

Complete mayhem broke out.

Panicked shrieks and shouts cut through the air, seeming to simultaneously come from all corners of the room. A few guests did the smart thing and immediately headed for the exit, though not all were fortunate to get that far unhindered.

Íþróttaálfurinn felt his blood run cold as he witnessed a small elf get grabbed by the hair and roughly dragged backwards, away from the exit she had almost managed to reach. She had let out a surprised gasp as the other hand of her attacker reached up to yank her expensive necklace clean off of her neck, but seemed quite relieved as the bandit promptly let her go and kicked her towards the exit, which she now gladly ran through.

The same thing happened to at least a dozen others, but so far, no one had gotten more than a few cuts and bruises that, by the looks of it, would heal within the week.

Someone threw a chair, which crashed hard into one of the buffet tables, drawing several yelps and angered shouts from the bandits that had set to raid it.

Same thing happened to the now broken vases that _had_ littered the walls, flowers falling down and breaking apart to create an oddly satisfying, colorful mess on the marble floor.

Rikki had not looked behind him, not even once. In fact, he had been staying unnaturally calm and collected in the face of the sudden riot unfolding literally right behind him.

At once, Íþróttaálfurinn realized two things. The flipped table had not been a spontaneous act; it had been some sort of bizarre signal to unleash whatever this maddened frenzy was all about.

Worse yet, _Rikki was in on it and Íþróttaálfurinn was cornered._

Would his little brother be _\- stay focused, do not panic._ The elf harshly scolded himself, willing himself to stay as calm as possible against the fear he felt start to overcloud his reason.

The man named Rikki, and Íþróttaálfurinn somehow _knew_ that was not his real name, stood up tall and imposing, looming over him with a delighted, near mad glint in his laughing eyes. Frozen in his stupor, the elf could only watch, as the taller man reached up and removed his hat, a single delicate hand staying up to rake through short, black hair.

A spark of recognition shook through the elf, yet he still could not place the other. Or maybe he could, but it could not be, _that was impossible._

Much too soon, the man in front of him let his thick coat fall to join the discarded hat on the floor and the elf felt as though his eyes might bulge out of his skull. This _was_ impossible and yet it was happening.

This really was no stranger at all. This was _Glanni Glæpur,_ nobleman of the Rotten Kingdom.

He immediately sprang to his feet and reached for his sword, wooden chair toppling to the ground behind him with a great _thunk_. Íþróttaálfurinn swiftly kicked it to the side and took a step back, hesitantly raising his sword high in front of him.

He was well prepared to fight but he was not certain he could actually make himself hurt this man.

‘’None of that’’ Glanni spat and all but pounced at him, easily knocking the sword out of the elfs trembling hand. _He really should not have been drinking as heavily as he had._ The elf had less than a second to brace himself before Glanni grinned widely and proceeded to kick him square in the chest, successfully sending him flying straight into the wall behind him.

He might be unsure of Glannis motives for participating in whatever this was, and while he did not wish the other harm, that did not mean he was not going to fight back at all. Besides, this was far from his and Glannis first dance and he knew that he was not in any actual _danger_.

Not yet at least.

He somehow managed to grab hold of Glannis wrist, when the other had made to throw a punch at his face and harshly shoved the taller man back a little. The motion caused an annoyed huff out of Glanni, who quickly pressed back to close the distance and all but smash their mouths together.

Oh. _Oh!_

The ankle was slightly off and really, there was nothing sweet about it at all, and yet, it felt _fantastic_. He was being squashed uncomfortably hard against the cold wall behind him, his mouth was being claimed in a desperately quick and fierce make-out, all the while, the banquet was being raided literally right in front of him but in that one obscure moment, _he could not care less._

The elf let his eyes fall shut and just basked in it. This would most likely be a one-time thing and he was not sure if he even wanted it to be or not.

A sudden rush of hot breath ghosted against the shell of his ear, before Glanni gently nipped at it, making the elf whimper and shiver intensely. ‘’See you around.’’ he purred and much too soon, Íþróttaálfurinns arms were once again left cold and empty.

Just like that, his favorite troublemaker was gone just as quickly as he had come.

Íþróttaálfurinn felt stupid with his empty hand outstretched in front of him, grasping for someone who by now would be long gone. Vanished into the crowd as though he had never existed.

A tinge of shame crept over him, as the back of his head hit the wall with a dull _thunk_. He was engaged and here he was, making out with the enemy while his house was being raided, and yet.

He had not felt this alive in _years._

It was not because he did not care for his fiancé, but the whole thing had been arranged. He had not wanted it, but due to some unfortunate events, it had been _necessary_. What Glanni had just done was not fair and Íþróttaálfurinn supposed the noble did not know of the immense stress, he had just put the elf under.

He longed, but could not act on it.

He shut his eyes and ignored the sounds of furniture breaking and shattering around him, as the frenzy reached its peak, willing himself to take deep grounding breaths in order to stubbornly ignore the bitter tears that had started to form.

This was a mess.

He thought he had finally come to terms with the weight of his duties, he really did. Yet, here was the damned rascal to make sure he did not forget of his own desires. Glanni was the very incarnation of what he had always wanted. A ravager. A savior. A blessing in disguise. He was everything that Íþróttaálfurinn was not and gods, he _longed._

Eventually, the guards managed to chase off the last of the persistent bandits and a few of said guards had dutifully stayed behind to mop up the remains of the ruined banquet. A single guard looked up and met Íþróttaálfurinns tired stare, but quickly averted his eyes again.

After all, it would not do to look at a royal tragedy.

Most of the guests had long since fled, though a dozen had stubbornly remained - out of boredom or to show support, Íþróttaálfurinn did not know - and were now happily exploiting the remaining dishes of food, which had not either been raided or thrown carelessly on the now dirtied floor. Some had managed to find seats of chairs, which were either still whole or was only partly broken, while others had taken to simply sit on the hard floor and chat amongst themselves in quick, hushed tones.

Therefore, the guards and the few remaining guests became the unfortunate audience to one of the most humiliating rebukes the elf had ever deservingly received.

His fiancé had seen _everything_ and she was quite possibly heartbroken. Not for the fact that he had been unfaithful, but - as from what he could conduct in between her screaming and cursing - she would have to relay the news of her failed engagement back to her father.

Íþróttaálfurinn stayed courteously silent through the entire tirade _, that_ he at least owed her. Besides, what could he say; he _was_ the one at fault.

The silence however, seemed to displease her more than any diplomatic setting could have, and so she angrily snatched a glass from a nearby not-broken table, quickly turning to throw its red contents in his face. For a moment, all his mind registered was the deep spiciness of the wine and how sticky and cold it had made his face and chest, contents still dripping further down to make a mess of the already ruined floor. _That_ reaction seemed to displease her ever more.

Again, he could not blame her.

Red-faced and panting as though she had just run a marathon, she merely stood there and gaped at him. He knew better than to foolishly believe that she was done though, she was after all a sweet but very _fierce_ woman.

She would make her future husband or wife very proud, that he did not doubt.

It seemed as though she actually _was_ done before all of a sudden, her shoulders tensed up and she literally roared at him, startling several of the guests who had already peeked up and gazed in their direction, as the first sounds of a possible juicy drama had reached them. A few of them scooted a bit nearer, willing themselves to get closer to the tragic action.

Íþróttaálfurinn only had a split second to brace himself before she pounced and tackled him harshly to the ground. One closed fist drew back to deliver a single hard blow to his face, before two bewildered guards quickly hauled her off and out of the hall, the sounds of her kicking and screaming growing fainter by the second.

The remaining, now thoroughly entertained guests tardily looked back down at their plates, failing hard to suppress rude chuckles and snickers. Enough were gathered for it to become the household conversation of the month and he did not have the energy to care much for it. Hopefully, however, for the sake of both of them, they would not be terribly unkind and spin an epic tale of what had transpired.

In the end, this had been as humiliating for him as it had been for her, but _she_ was still the one who would bear most of the embarrassment.

It was hardly fair but it was unfortunately not something he could do much about.

It took a while, but he finally managed to muster up the courage, to push himself off the ground and make his way towards his little brother who sat – as entertained as the other remaining guests, still with his plate intact and half-full of food - on the floor, next to his now broken chair, happily chewing away.

Sportacus grinned brightly at him, but stayed tactfully silent about what he had just witnessed. He did however, run a hand through the other elfs disheveled hair, grin going impossibly wider as he did so.

Íþróttaálfurinn immediately noticed that his lips were smeared in a deep purple lipstick and really, there was only _one_ person – except for Glanni - he knew would wear that specific shade.

‘’The _prince_ was here as well?’’ he asked dumbfounded.

Sportacus send him a dreamy look before parting his lips to bite down on a ripe grape. ’’Yep.’’

Íþróttaálfurinn could not help the sigh that escaped him. This was a mess. ‘’Do not talk with your mouth full.’’

His brother just chuckled and lightly shoved at him.

They sat in a comfortable silence, while the guests started to depart, one by one, stopping shortly to bow deeply in front of the sitting princes. At this point, there was hardly any need for curtesy, but Íþróttaálfurinn appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

There were few remaining when Sportacus cleared his throat, drawing Íþróttaálfurinns attention. When he looked over, the others expression had settled into a much more serious one. ‘’Are you all right though?’’

Íþróttaálfurinn inhaled sharply and let his eyes fall shut. ‘’Yeah, it is her I am worried for. I was unfair.’’

‘’It might be for the best.’’ Sportacus started carefully. ‘’You never loved her. Nor did she love you.’’ He pointed out.

‘’That hardly matters.’’

His brother just frowned and shook his head though he did not voice his disagreement. He too knew the consequences this would eventually harbor.

The hall had fallen mostly silent with so few people left and the anguished wails of his now ex-wife-to-be having long faded to nothing. Either she had calmed down or she had left the property all together.

It was no longer his place to ask for her whereabouts and so he was not going to.

It felt like much too soon, when their father finally arrived back. His face had grown grim and a bit diffident as he paused in the doorway, a single guard shuffling nervously behind him. Íþróttaálfurinn felt a tinge of pity towards the one who had had to relay the news of the disastrous banquet to him, but nevertheless, it had had to be done.

‘’I leave for thirty-seven minutes. Just thirty-seven.’’ He started while shaking his head in obvious disappointment. ‘’Care to explain what has happened here?’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ┬──┬ ノ( ゜-゜ノ) Wups


	3. Snatched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooi I'm back with an update to this, srry it's been lying dormant for like a year..
> 
> Currently working on three chapters to 'Mångata', which will not be posted until they all done cause... ew cliffhangers.

‘ _’Hey_.’’ A distant voice rumbled above him, while a rude, insistent finger poked at his chin. ‘ _’Hey!_ ’’ The voice repeated, this time a bit more harshly. Íþróttaálfurinn tried to shove it away, grumbling tiredly as he did so, to which he got a hard slap in return.

At once, the elf was awake - blurry eyes snapping open to stare into stormy grey ones, while his hand shot out to grab the offensive palm, before it could slap him again.

Both seemed to freeze for a second before a bright grin split over Glannis face. ‘ _’Mornin princess_.’’ The man drawled with sweet, mock cheer. Instinctually, Íþróttaálfurinn reached out his other hand, flinching hard when his palm actually met solid flesh.

Real. This was _real. Not an illusion._

‘’You're here.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn grumbled eloquently to which Glanni regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

‘’Did your brain get damaged as well or something?’’ The man huffed unimpressed. ‘’I didn’t kick you _that_ hard.’’ Glanni scoffed, recoiling slightly when Íþróttaálfurinn leaned up on his elbows. Finally, the elf registered the light weight on his thighs – the realization that the other was straddling him slow to sink in but pleasant nonetheless. Hesitantly, Íþróttaálfurinn let the hand still pressed against the others abdomen trail up further in awe, fingers spreading out to cover more.

Glanni stayed perfectly still as the elf leaned up further, pressed his face into the side of the nobles neck and breathed deep. The scent was familiar. _Safe_. Glanni smelled of perfumed dew on dead winter leaves - like withered roses caught in the eye of a storm.

‘ _’How are you here?’’_ Íþróttaálfurinn asked on a voice that sounded desperate, even to himself. Truly, it made no sense. Slowly but surely, the events of the banquet caught up to him, crashing back into his awareness with such speed and cruelty that he could not help but whine softly. Still. Glanni was _here_. He was _still here_. ‘But _why_?’ A small voice in the back of the elfs head asked, which said elf loudly choose to ignore.

‘’Does it matter?’’ Glanni, as though haven overheard the elfs inner dialogue, retorted as his arms loosely wrapped around the others bruised torso, just as Íþróttaálfurinn drew back slightly to look up at him. The hand still pressing against Glannis stomach travelled up to instead settle onto the base of the nobles neck, drawing the him down gently.

Glanni strained against it and immediately, Íþróttaálfurinn released him.

‘’Dragons breath.’’ Glanni complained, as he stuck out his tongue and wrinkled his nose. Grinning, he traced the elfs ear, successfully making Íþróttaálfurinn shudder. ‘ _’Aw what the hell._ ’’ The noble grumbled as he leaned down regardless.

The mans lips were firm, warm and strangely bittersweet as they claimed his, perfect and familiar in their thinness. However, these small affections had never been gentle and this time was no exception. Yelping, Íþróttaálfurinn roughly shoved Glanni back as the other harshly bit him.

‘’Do you remember what you promised me elf?’’ Glanni rasped against his swollen lips, causing Íþróttaálfurinn to blink up in confusion.

‘’No?’’ The elf answered to which the other ‘ _Tsk’_ ed. A wave of cold air washed over him as Glanni left the bed, immediately leaving him with a strangely empty pit in his gut.

The noble lazily stretched his arms out over his head, cracking his back as he let out a deep, long yawn, before he strode to the open window and gazed out. It was still dark out, most likely still night Íþróttaálfurinn mused correctly, as he caught sight of the moon hanging low in the sky - rays of moonlight filtering in and through the framed glass, which painted long and shadowy tendrils on the walls, like a set of bony fingers greedily reaching for him.

The thick, embroidered curtains blew heavily in the cool wind, gently wrapping around the grinning intruder in the dark, as Glanni pressed his fingers to the glass and pushed them further open.

The noble seemed cut out of a bad dream, yet Íþróttaálfurinn was not afraid. He did however, wonder why he felt so heavy all of a sudden – a slight buzz in the back of his throat painfully making itself present, before he all out gagged on the sweet taste that spread out and coated his tongue.

‘’I am yours.’’ Glanni said as he croaked his head and slowly turned to face the paling elf, pinning him with a hard glare, which Íþróttaálfurinn hesitantly returned with his confused own. ‘ _’And you are mine._ You promised me so.’’

‘’Years ago.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn urged softly as he scratched at his throat – trying and failing to rid himself of the uncomfortable sensation. ‘’I promised you so years ago and you disappeared on me.’’

‘’That doesn't matter.’’ Glanni clipped.

‘’But it does.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn urged gently. ‘’I was supposed to be married. I have a duty and a purpose to serve.’’ The elf said, to which the other shrugged in a careless fashion.

‘ _’Well not anymore_.’’ Glanni practically growled, shoulders tensing as he puffed up his chest and clenched his fists.

‘’Why are you here?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn, more than eager to derail the previous topic, asked, to which Glanni lowered his head, tilted it and regarded him with a sinister smile.

‘’I'm kidnapping you.’’

Nothing but static roared through Íþróttaálfurinns brain for a few moments. ‘ _’What_?’’ The elf finally managed to croak out.

Glanni shrugged as he turned back to the window, fetched something, which turned out to be a small white cloth, from a small bag he had had hidden, poured a thick white liquid onto said fabric and turned back around to face the elf. ‘’You can either go quietly.’’ Glanni said as he put the bottle down a bit harshly. ‘’Or I force you.’’ The noble said casually as he slowly approached Íþróttaálfurinn. ‘’Oh _and don't bother calling the guards_. They are going to be out of commission for the next couple of hours.’’

‘’Is this really happening?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn asked as he rapidly blinked, shaking his head to clear off the worst of the sudden dizziness.

‘’Yep.’’

‘’Are you going to hurt me?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn asked as he managed a deep, shaky breath to which the other shrugged.

‘’That depends.’’ Glanni said just as he reached the elfs bed. ‘ _’Do I need to_?’’ Glanni asked as he pounced on the other.

The floor was hard against Íþróttaálfurinns shoulder as he collided with it – a sickening, sweet taste invading his mouth and nostrils, as the terrible taste of the dusty fabric was forced against his mouth. Choking, the elf felt himself grow slack, muscles losing the last of their strength, as he nevertheless tried to press back against the other.

His eyes blurred, colours faded and he knew it was an impossible feat.

Immediately, Glanni removed the cloth and rolled the other onto his back, tilting his head backwards to clear the elfs airways. Slightly relieved, Íþróttaálfurinn felt his breath come easier to him as he stared stiffly at the ceiling, registering but not truly feeling as Glanni gently traced his lower lip.

Humming victoriously, the noble leaned down. ‘ _’Your brother is safe_.’’ The man whispered as he raked a hand through the elfs hair, before leaning down further to kiss his forehead. A metallic roar started in Íþróttaálfurinns head, the numbness still present and close in his veins, overshadowing anything else the man had to say after that and Glanni quickly realized it. Sighing, the noble turned and called something over his shoulder, before turning back to his price – stormy embers observing the elf close until two pairs of boots entered and obscured his field of vision. Íþróttaálfurinn tried to move his eyes, wanting to know what was going on, but could not.

Finally, as gravity shifted, he fainted.

\--

 

Hours later, more than a little confused, pissed off and cold from the rain, which beat down onto his chained form, Íþróttaálfurinn woke up on a moving horse wagon.

A splitting headache quickly made its presence known as he tried to at least get up into a sitting position, but alas, he could not. Frustrated, he did his best to relax back down against the uncomfortable surface of the wood below, just as a nasty bump in the road jostled him greatly.

‘ _’Ah_.’’ That _blasted_ , _godsforsaken_ voice sounded above, as the damned, _lovable_ noble in question registered the elfs woken state, crouched down and extended a small, oval object to him.

A grape it turned out, as Íþróttaálfurinn hesitantly bit into it. Gradually, the elf felt a portion of his strength return, but still, he could not move.

‘’Congratulations.’’ Glanni said as he petted his chilled cheek. ‘’You've been kidnapped.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to Iceland on saturday (Internship) and staying there for 20 days.  
> Maybe I have wifi, maybe I don't. We'll see.


	4. A bit of warmth amongst the cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working on getting three chapters of Mångata done, so *Shrug* here's a chapter for this glorious train wreck of a fic <3 honestly, I really enjoy writing this, but there's only a good four or five chapters left sooo... yeah.
> 
> Enjoy <3

The rain was cold and continuous, small puddles of it clingy and chilling him further as it gathered in the bottom of the cage, which he had been left in for _days_. Shivering, Íþróttaálfurinn lightly cursed the damned culprits name, sneezed and curled further in on himself.

‘ _Seriously’_ The elf thought as he glared out over the soaked, half empty bandit-camp. _‘What kind of person kidnaps someone and then abandons them?’_

Scratch that, he _knew._ Perhaps this was some kind of wicked punishment for whatever imagined crime he had committed, but whatever it was, it was highly unfair and _far_ from deserved.

\--

Next time he woke, it was to the sound of more damned rain against the top-bars of the cage and galloping hooves somewhere to his left. ‘ _About time’_ Íþróttaálfurinn thought as he watched his idiot rascal ride calmly through the camp, come to a halt and finally dismount near a small makeshift shelter.

If anything, Glanni at least had the sense to look shocked as he caught sight of the elfs sorry state. The two kept the eye contact for a few moments longer before the noble sighed, went to fetch a bowl of something warm and steamy and then finally approached the cage.

Íþróttaálfurinn tried to scoot backwards as the door swung open on old, rusty hinges, though cold, hungry and chained as he still was, he hardly got far. Shushing him gently, Glanni carefully sat the bowl down on a somewhat puddle-free part of the floor before tugging off his own cape to instead drag over the shivering elf.

The noble took his time, patient and full of understanding as he grabbed said elf and bowl close and set to help emptying its contents. Slowly but surely Íþróttaálfurinn felt a faint warmth spread in his belly, which mercifully spread out quick.

‘ _’Don’t think this makes me forgive_.’’ The elf grumbled in an irked fashion as he nevertheless accepted the next spoonful pressing against his blueish lips, to which the other hummed.

‘’You can’t escape.’’ Glanni replied nonplused. ‘’Don’t resist and I’ll get you someplace warm.’’

‘ _’As if_.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn grit out as he stubbornly turned his head away from the warm metal insistently poking at his pouting mouth.

‘’Íþrótt.’’

‘ _’No_.’’

A deep sigh escaped the noble. ‘’I had to do this.’’ Glanni argued to which the elf all out laughed.

‘’Why on earth would something like this be necessary?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn scoffed. ‘’All I see is you being selfish as always, this-‘’ The elf managed before he was harshly cut off as Glanni carded his fingers through the elfs soaked hair, made a fist of it and tugged.

‘ _’Oh believe me._ ’’ The noble practically growled. ‘ _’This was needed.’’_

’’Why?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn, willing to play along for now and not at all phased by the sharp sting in his scalp, asked, to which Glannis lips thinned. The noble shook his head, glaring at the sky for a few moments before blinking back down at his captive.

‘’It was the only way to keep you safe.’’

‘’You call this _safe_?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn spat.

‘’I was already running on borrowed time!’’

 _‘’And what the hell does that mean_?’’ The elf cried as he managed to jerk himself out of the others hold – said elf realizing that they had attracted the attention of at least a handful of the nearby bandits but not overly caring.

Glanni scoffed and then took a deep breath as he set the half-empty bowl down - his voice calm as he finally elaborated. ‘’You would have been killed.’’ The noble tried as he cautiously leaned towards the other. In the cramped space of the cage, it was not as if Íþróttaálfurinn could get far and soon enough, the elfs back collided hard with the edge of the cage. ‘’I didn’t have time to figure out the who or exactly when but-‘’

‘’And so you saw fit to kidnap me?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn harshly cut him off, causing Glannis shoulders to drop in a frustrated manner.

‘’What else should I have done?’’

‘ _’Literally anything else._ ’’ Íþróttaálfurinn clipped to which Glanni rolled his eyes.

‘’The sword was literally inches from your brothers throat when Robbie went to him.’’

 _That_ gave Íþróttaálfurinn pause- the elf in question feeling a flash of panic bubble in his chest and throat, causing him to rapidly blink as he tried to progress the new information. ‘ _’What_?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn asked on a low, fearful voice. ‘’Is he- _no_ , Glanni, I have to- _I have to go, let me go_.’’

‘ _’Would you just_ -‘’ Glanni cut himself off as he tried to hold the squirming other down. ‘’You-‘’ The noble tried as he grabbed onto the others shoulder - a foot settling heavily onto the side of the door and stemming against it. ‘ _’Íþrótt just stop for a second_!’’ Glanni barked. Frustrated, he let go of the bars to instead grabble the other. ‘’He’s _safe_ godsdammit, _would you stop!’’_

‘ _’Glanni_!’’

‘’Safe!’’ The noble insisted. ‘’Just- _Christ_ , _Robbie is with him_ , would you _breathe_.‘’ Glanni complained as Íþróttaálfurinn, despite the chains, nearly managed to worm his way free.  ‘’ _There’s nothing you can do aight, we’re taking care of it.’’_ He argued – the noble in question highly relieved when it seemed the other, if only a little, started to calm slightly. ‘’Look just-… You can’t escape.’’ He repeated. ‘’Just _stop_. It’s taken care of.’’

‘ _’Please_.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn, on a voice, which broke at the edge, pleaded. Carefully, the elf forced himself a deep, shuddering breath, which burned all the way down. ‘’Let me go.’’

‘’I cannot.’’ Glanni replied softly as he raked his fingers through the others soaked hair. ‘’I _can’t_. I’ll get you somewhere warm, just _stop_.’’

A small silence settled before the noble sighed, relaxed against the worn out elf and continued on a low, hushed voice. ‘’She never intended for you to live.’’ Glanni argued softly. ‘’Your fiancé that is. The plan was to marry, kill you both and be next in line for the throne.’’

‘’That's absurd.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn pressed as he turned his head and rested his cheek against the soaked floor. ‘’Father would never let that happen.’’

‘’Is it?’’ Glanni asked as he raised an eyebrow at the elf. ‘’Your brother got poisoned during the banquet- _Got_ poisoned Íþrótt, _got_ , as in he is no longer, he's fine, he's _safe_ \- just calm down. I promised you this, aight?’’ The noble quickly pressed as the elf stubbornly started worming his way back towards the door in an exhausted manner.

Íþróttaálfurinn managed a deep, grounding breath before settling still again. ‘’Where did you go?’’ The elf, needing to redirect the conversation for a bit, asked. ‘’You _left_.’’ He said. ‘ _’Again_.’’

Glanni seemed to be contemplating his words for a few moments before replying. ‘’To take care of business.’’ The noble finally replied on a voice cold enough to send a shiver down Íþróttaálfurinns spine.

‘’Is...?’’ The elf trailed off, unsure of what he was trying to ask.

‘’Is anyone dead?’’ Glanni helpfully concluded for him, to which the elf nodded. ‘’No.’’ The noble said as he raked a hand through his own hair and shook his head. ‘’Two people will be very soon though.’’ Another strange silence settled as Íþróttaálfurinn finally gave up and this time, the shiver, which tore through the elf, was from the cool breeze that ghosted over his wet skin, rather than the chilly tone Glannis voice still held.

Turning over slowly, Íþróttaálfurinn managed to sit up proper and face his kidnapper. ‘’Are you in trouble?’’ The elf asked - the question more a statement than anything, causing Glannis hand to pause awkwardly in the air for a split second, as it had been reaching for the neglected, half-full bowl. A single drop hit the floor of the cage as the nobles unsteady hand grabbed and tipped it too far.

‘’Yes.’’ Glanni replied on a carefully neutral voice as he fed the elf another spoonful. ‘’So.’’ The noble continued on a much more chipper tone as he, minutes later, put the empty bowl down. ‘’ _How does an actual bed sound?’’_

‘’Release me.’’

‘’No.’’

‘’Glanni-‘’

‘ _’No!_ ’’ The noble spat with an air of finality. ‘ _’Absolutely not, na-ah,_ just stop being dumb and come along already, you’re _freezing_.’’ Glanni scoffed as he turned and kicked the cage door open.

‘’And whose fault is that exactly?’’ The elf hummed unimpressed.

‘’Íþrótt.’’ The noble rasped, only half turned to the other as he held the door open. ‘’Please trust me on this.’’ Glanni flinched and then frowned as Íþróttaálfurinn all out barked a harsh laugh at him. ‘ _’Fine_.’’ The noble hissed as he got out, up and slammed the door shut after him. ‘ _’Have it your way then._ ’’

\--

 

It was way into the night when Íþróttaálfurinn slowly sat up again – the elf careful, watching the sleeping bandits close for any signs of movement. Silently, and with a hint of nervousness, he gathered what little of his own magic, which had returned to him after he had been fed a proper meal and focused it onto the chains that held and clung to him tightly. It took quite a while, but eventually he felt the cold, rough links of the metal turn and finally shatter, making him flinch as they fell against the soaked floor in a series of small clings and clangs.

Luckily, it seemed no one noticed it – the surrounding bandits still fast asleep as they were.

With a held-back breath, Íþróttaálfurinn pushed against the locked door, whose hinges squeaked as he let it glide wide open _. 'So far so good.'_ The elf thought as he managed to get out and finally up _. 'Now all there’s left to do is find a horse and get home.'_

It did not take him long to spot the black mare, which Glanni had rode back into camp on. Granted, the beast of a horse was probably stolen just as he himself had been, but that was an issue for a later time.

The mare lowered its head in silent greeting as he approached. ‘ _’Be as silent as you can._ ’’ Íþróttaálfurinn urged on a whisper as he mounted it. Moments later, with a mane black as coal and hooves golden, hushed and soft as they trod against the forest floor, they were off into the black void of the surrounding green.

‘ _’Home_.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn, with a strange feeling that such was the place he was leaving behind, whispered. ‘’ _Take me home.’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glanni@TheBigYellowElf: ''you can't escape''  
> BigYellowElf: >:})  
> \---
> 
> Christ Iceland is cold, the prices are insane, but I love it and I honestly wanna stay.


	5. Affirmation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoi. Iceland is treating me well. My back is toast though, so have an update, cause eh. Reasons.

It wasn’t until the third day of near constant riding that Íþróttaálfurinn realized just how far he had been moved – the elf slightly frightful and weirded out by the fact that he had been unconscious for the most of it. Still, if anything, it explained why he had not been found any sooner and why some of the soldiers send to retrieve him, was as relieved as they were upon his return.

Raking a hand through his soaked hair, Íþróttaálfurinn managed to steer the black mare over the still lowering bridge and in through the main gates of the castle.

Ignoring the concerned – but still relieved – guards, the elf wordlessly dismounted the beast and send her off again, back the same way she had come. Perhaps she was still as much of a captive as he had been, but as it had turned out during his long ride, she had been glad to be stolen off – the previous owner before Glanni, as she had explained, a cruel, heavy-handed and generally unpleasant creature.

Íþróttaálfurinns steps echoed through the hall as he strode down it with long, fast steps. Soon enough – while still ignoring the slightly red-faced guard trying to keep up with him - he found the door he sought.

\--

 

Sportacus’ eyes nearly bulged from his eyes, as he caught sight of his brothers approaching form. Moments later, yelping, he found himself swept up into a big hug.

‘ _’Can’t breathe_.’’ Sportacus chuckled on a delighted tone as he rapidly tapped at Íþróttaálfurinns cool shoulder. Nevertheless, the younger still returned the embrace until Íþróttaálfurinn carefully let Sportacus slide back down onto solid ground.

‘’Are you…?’’ Sportacus started on a low, careful voice as he took in the others weather-beaten appearance, to which Íþróttaálfurinn curtly nodded.

‘’Quite alright.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn reassured as he squeezed Sportacus’ shoulders. ‘ _’You_ however.’’ The elf hummed as he noticed a certain, quickly paling purple-clad prince standing just to the brothers right. Rapidly, Robbie seemed more nervous still, as Íþróttaálfurinn stared him down. ‘’You’re coming with me.’’

‘’W-wait.’’ Sportacus managed to stutter out as his brother grabbed Robbie by the wrist and roughly tugged him along. ‘ _’No!_ ’’ Sportacus squeaked in a slightly pitched tone as he quickly followed the pair. ‘’Brother _wait_ , he’s on our side.’’ The elf argued as Íþróttaálfurinn roughly dragged Robbie into another room and shoved him down into a chair.

‘’Is he now?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn mused aloud on a low voice as he bend down slightly in order to get on eyelevel with the seated, shaky prince. ‘’Explain.’’ The elf rasped as he narrowed his eyes at the other. Immediately, Robbies shifty, pleading eyes looked to Sportacus for help – the prince in question flinching hard as Íþróttaálfurinn snapped his chilled fingers in front of his face.

‘ _’Enough_.’’ Sportacus practically hissed as he, gently, put a hand onto his brothers tense arm. ‘ _’Gods_ , please back off, you’re scaring him.’’ The elf, still gentle, pressed. Humming softly, Íþróttaálfurinn looked back at Robbie, leaned forward and pressed both heavy palms against the armrests.

‘ _’Explain_.’’ The elf repeated in a nonplussed voice. ‘’Why are you here?’’ He asked. ‘’And what business do you have with my brother.’’

Robbie gulped as he somehow managed to hunch further in on himself, mouth falling open for a few seconds, yet he promptly shut it, crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to lean as far away from Íþróttaálfurinn as he possibly could. Sportacus, full of patience and somehow still gently, bodily pushed Íþróttaálfurinn away from the other. ‘’One thing at a time.’’ The elf pleaded. ‘’There’s a lot to tell but we should not do it here.’’

‘’And why not?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn immediately pressed as he managed to find his footing again.

Sportaucs gazed around nervously for a few moments before leaning in slightly, head lowering as though he wanted to share a grand secret. The sudden tenseness of the situation seemed off somehow – truly, this was the most serious Íþróttaálfurinn had ever seen the other. ‘ _’The walls have ears_.’’ Sportacus elaborated on an awed, hushed voice. ‘’Ears that _bite_.’’ The elf continued on an even softer note.

‘’Bite?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn asked as he blinked twice – a soft ‘ _oh’_ escaping him, as he finally understood the notion. Curtly, he nodded before stepping back to lean against a table behind him. ‘’Are these teeth our own or outsiders?’’

Sportacus looked at Robbie for a second, wordlessly asking for permission to elaborate. ‘’Outsiders.’’ The elf finally said after Robbie had given a slow, soft nod in affirmation. Humming in thought, Íþróttaálfurinn absently started drumming his fingers against the wood beneath him.

‘’Do we know the specifics?’’ The elf asked to which Sportacus nodded.

‘’The liars.’’ Sportacus solemnly replied.

 _‘’Could you be even more specific_?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn pressed. Robbie and Sportacus immediately shared a look, which held far more emotion than should have been possible between two people who – as far as Íþróttaálfurinn knew – hardly knew each other.

‘’Uhm...’’ Robbie started before trailing off.

‘ _’Your fiancé_.’’ Sportacus helpfully concluded, as the other did not continue. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, Íþróttaálfurinn looked into empty space as he tried to accept the affirmation. _An arranged marriage. A plot against the throne and an attempt on his brothers life. It all sounded like the plot to a bad story but here he was, living it._

‘’So Glanni was right.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn finally admitted on a soft, barely audible voice as he gazed over at his brother. A strange, tense silence settled over the trio as Íþróttaálfurinn continued to do nothing but stare.

‘ _’So uhm_ , about that.’’ Robbie, arms still tense and crossed tightly over his chest, pepped up after the prolonged stare-down had gotten too intense – the prince successful and flinching hard as he managed to draw Íþróttaálfurinns full attention onto himself and away from the other. ‘’You’re not really supposed to be here, not yet.’’ The prince said with a hint of annoyance, to which Íþróttaálfurinn hummed and softly shook his head.

‘’You are not in a place to tell me such.’’

‘ _’I’m trying to look out for you here._ ’’ Robbie, shoulders raising in an irked fashion, squeaked.

‘’Nevertheless.’’ The elf shrugged nonplussed. ‘’You aren’t.’’ Scowling hard, Robbie opened his mouth to spit something back in return that would most likely have been an insult, but Sportacus beat him to it.

‘’It is not safe here.’’ Sportacus pressed as he stepped a bit in front of Robbie and raised a hand in retaliation. ‘’Not for you at least – it is as Robbie said, not _yet_.’’

‘’What are they planning?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn, willing himself to stay calm and collected, asked in a hushed voice. ‘’The liars that is.’’ He quickly added though the others already knew.

‘’Murder.’’ Robbie replied on a scoff as he reached out and grabbed the hand that Sportacus still held up in front of himself. A soft, shy smile spread over Sportacus’ features as the other drew him a bit back before embracing his lower half close. ‘’They nearly succeeded.’’ The prince gruffed as he tightened the hold.

‘’So I heard.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn hummed as he sighed, tilted his head and watched the pair close. Hardly knew each other? _Scratch that. Whatever had sparked and flared between them was old and full of affection._ ‘’Who stopped it?’’ The elf, already knowing the answer, asked and true enough, Sportacus proudly confirmed it. ‘ _Well that confirms that_.’ The elf thought as he made up his mind.

‘’Wait- _don’t go!’_ ’ Robbie quickly yapped up as Íþróttaálfurinn pushed himself away from the table, turned and stalked for the door.

‘’Try and stop me.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn, feeling a spark of his old, rusty, far forgotten mischief, smirked in reply as the pair broke apart and made to grab for him. Granted, wasting his magic on small antics like this was probably not the best of ideas, but considering the startled expression it caused Robbie, he thought it worth it.

The prince in question yelped in fright as his outstretched hand went straight through the fleeing elfs right arm.

‘’Oh, and Robbie.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn said as he turned right in front of the door and looked back at said, puzzled prince. ‘’Whatever’s going on between you two.’’ The elf said as he gestured from one suddenly tense prince to the other. ‘ _’You have my blessing.’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	6. Sharp as a blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while tired af, any mistakes or misspellings I do apologize for.  
> I hope this does not seem to hectic or confusing - originally wrote like 61 pages for this, but... after Eversion, I really wanna (try to) keep my fics lighter.
> 
> Goodnight and enjoy <3

Truly - as Íþróttaálfurinn felt his coated palm slide a bit, thus causing him to grip the hilt of his sword tighter - it should not feel this good to eradicate those he had once considered his own. Íþróttaálfurinn, sword ready and already bloody, waited with a held back breath as the guard in front of him shifted unsure - the elf hoping, but not truly expecting the other to stand down in the face of the hopeless situation they both found themselves in.

Two already lay dead and soon, so would another. True enough, seconds later, the hesitant guard in question gathered their courage and charged and so, the last of the three liars lay dead.

‘ _There could be more.’_ The small voice of reason in the back of his mind whispered as he straightened up and cracked his neck. ‘’There could indeed.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn answered softly into the serene silence that followed the ended skirmish. Further down, another rounded the corner. ‘ _’There could indeed_.’’

‘’My lord.’’ The newly arrived finally croaked out in a startled fashion, to which Íþróttaálfurinn hummed. If anything, the guard in question was trusted and he could not imagine them wanting to hurt either the throne or his own person. That said, so had he thought of the three that now lay perished. ‘’It is… _good to see you back.’’_ The guard absently finished on a mumble as they slowly kneeled down next to one of the felled guards. With pale, shaky fingers, they reached out and gingerly closed the others unseeing eyes.

Íþróttaálfurinn gave a small nod in response as he turned his head away from the scene – elf trying to allow them as much space as he possibly could. Feeling a strange, empty cold spread in his stomach, he set to clean his blade before putting it away.

\--

‘’There is not much to tell.’’ The one who had been kneeling answered, as they walked down towards the end of the corridor. ‘’After you… _left_ , things got hectic. It appears that whatever had been planned has yet to be carried out, but as it stands, none knows what or exactly the when.’’

Absently, Íþróttaálfurinn felt himself nod. ‘’Who has been put on the case?’’ The elf asked to which the other gave a tense shrug.

‘’Two different teams are working towards finding all the nooks and crannies where one might possibly have slipped through. It’s… a tiring effort.’’ The guard mumbled, quickly looking over their shoulder as they did so.

‘’And do you know who?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn asked. It would be curious if Glanni knew while his own guards did not, but considering the unpredictable nature of his idiot rascal, he would not be surprised if Glanni truly _had_ been in on the whole ordeal. _Get hired for the hit, take the money and bail. That sort of thing._

If anything, if such was the case, he should probably consider himself lucky that the other seemed to have no intension or mood for going through with it. Then again, if Glanni were in on it and he had been given instructions on how to carry through with it – unless he had been given free hands of course - then he would have known a lot more than he seemed to let on. Perhaps he did, perhaps he did not.

Taking a deep breath, Íþróttaálfurinn willed himself back into the present just as the shifty guard beside him once more glanced over their shoulder. ‘’We are still uncertain.’’ They finally answered on a cold, detached voice.

Blinking twice, Íþróttaálfurinn had barely opened his mouth to ask what was the matter when he felt the breath be knocked out of him, just as a blinding pain spread out and through his lower back. Shocked, he tried to turn when a strange, dull sensation registered in front of him as well. Gazing down, eyes going wide as did so, he found a fist burrowed deep in his belly – the blade of the knife piercing his flesh glistening red as it slid back and out.

The guard kneeled with him as Íþróttaálfurinns own knees bend - A set of fingers, tense and cruel, digging into the wound in his back as they drew him up close to the other. Instinctually, Íþróttaálfurinn tried to curl in on himself, feeling his own hot and stuttering breath fan over the others collarbone.

The moment felt unreal. Fake, as his first reunion with Glanni had.

 _‘’You damned royals_.’’ The guard hissed in his ear. ’’You take and you _take_ and _take and **take**.’’ _ A choked gasp escaped Íþróttaálfurinn as the knife plunged back in and twisted hard – the elf crying out as the pain flared up and finally registered for real. ‘ _’No more_.’’

Further down the hall, voices echoed in and bounced off of the surrounding walls – the words muffled and hard to make out as they got swept up in the static roar flickering through the elfs ears.

Absently, he understood that he had managed to shove the other back – a single, instinctual kick sending the guard flying, the damned knife slipping and falling from their hand before they could get up and stab him again.

As it had been when Glanni came for him in the night, the colours faded, sounds filtering out and finally snuffed as his side collided hard with the cold floor beneath him.

Pressing a tense, shaking palm to his bleeding stomach, Íþróttaálfurinn managed a single, choked curse before his senses gave out.

\--

 

The first thing he noticed upon reawakening was the scent of the sterile blankets on which he lay – their pristine, much too clean nuances harsh and uncomfortable as he managed to blink his soggy eyes open. Immediately, as he tried to move, a stab of pain in both his lower back and abdomen made its presence known. ‘ _Iron_.’ His mind provided helpfully as his shaky hand located the small mountain of fresh bandages wrapped tightly around his abdomen. _‘Iron blade was used. Will take time to heal. Much unfortunate. Very painful indeed.’_

‘’Mornin.’’ The safe voice of his favorite, idiot rascal rasped down at him as the noble noticed the others blurry, startled gaze blinking back up at him. Absently, Glanni spun a dagger in his hands, the steel promising menace as it flashed in the low light of the room the elf had been carried into.

Feeling a strange sense of relief wreck through him, Íþróttaálfurinn wrapped a pale hand around the nobles naked ankle – the elf practically curling his upper body around it as he threw the other a small, shy grin. ‘’I still do not forgive you.’’ He rasped out on a dry, scratchy voice.

Scoffing lightly, Glanni leaned down from where he was perched on the back of the beds banister, a single hand stretching out to caress the elfs clammy cheek.

‘’I don’t give a shit.’’ The noble, clearly in a sour mood, rasped back. ‘’You prayed for some stupid, divine intervention and now that it’s here, you fuckin complain ‘bout it.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn felt his brow furrow as he leaned into the others careful touch.

If the noble was referring to the specific event that he thought he was, then he should have no way of knowing of it, unless he had actually been there.

It had been about two months ago, the prayer whispered out into the chill of the night air while the elf had been kneeling on his balcony – the stone harsh and unrelenting as it dug into his shins. ‘’You…’’ Íþróttaálfurinn trailed off as he gazed up at the other who merely shrugged. ‘ _’Why did you leave?_ ’’ The elf asked once more, this time feeling a tinge of desperation gnaw at his insides.

‘ _’You_ left.’’ Glanni hissed back as he shook his head. ‘’Fuckin warned you not to go.’’ The noble scoffed as he gestured at the elfs general, beaten person. ‘’But _nope_ , off you went like a dumb nit of a-‘’

‘’Three years ago.’’ The elf softly urged as he tightened his hold of the others ankle. ‘’You left.’’

‘’You got engaged.’’ Glanni shrugged harshly, frowning as he glared off to the side.

‘’That was only a year ago.’’

Above him, Glanni retrieved his hand as he let out something, which sounded like a combination between a sigh and a growl. ‘’I found out I had a daughter.’’ The noble said on a voice, which held far too much emotion for the elf to handle and properly respond to. ‘’Already four at the time. I thought it was fake but nope, _she's definitely mine_. I couldn't just abandon her you know.’’ He grumbled as he started cleaning out his nails with the edge of the dagger.

‘’Is she…’’ Íþróttaálfurinn tried before trailing off. ‘’How… is she?’’ The elf, still unsure of how to respond, finally asked.

‘’Fine.’’ Glanni shrugged a bit tensely. ‘’Like, don’t get me wrong, I could never be a parent _and I ain’t one_ , _not really_ , but this is still partly my responsibility.’’ The noble rasped as he let the dagger drop and instead continued his fascinated stare-down with the wall beside him. ‘ _’She’s fine._ ’’ He continued on a much softer note. ‘’Currently running around and dragging at her mothers skirts. She’s not alone though, her mother got married anyway so… _yeah, he’s a nice, caring guy,_ _she’s fine_.’’

‘’You still worry for her?’’ Íþróttaálfurinn asked.

‘ _’Always_.’’ Glanni finished on a grumble before glaring back down at the other. ‘’I can’t help it- I’m not a parent Íþrótt, but _fuck it_ , I still care for her, I really do.’’ The noble argued back at the others intense expression. ‘’Maybe in the future, maybe things will change, but not now and _not_ unless she wants it.’’

A small silence settled before Glanni continued.

‘’Stop running off.’’ The noble clipped coldly as he changed the subject and petted the elfs cheek twice, causing the small grin to widen further. ‘’I’ll follow after anyway.’’ He hummed as if on an afterthought as he dragged the corner of the heavy blanket up to cover the elf a bit better. Íþróttaálfurinn absently nodded before beaming one last, sleepy smile up at him.

‘’I’ll throw you in the dungeon when I’m better.’’

‘’No you won’t.’’

 _‘’Yes I will._ ’’

\--

 

\- Hours past -

 

The king, no matter how stressed or tired, had always seemed to cut a stoic figure – the royals demeanor calm but stern as he entered the small room. He did not in the least appear surprised by Glannis presence there, in fact at first barely paying the noble any attention, as he dismissed his own personal guard, dragged a stool over to the small sickbed and sat down. In an exhausted manner, he dragged a hand down his face, rubbing vigorously at his temples before his eyes snapped back up to stare at his sleeping son, who, despite of his unconscious state was still clutching Glannis ankle tightly.

‘’Are there any others you are certain of?’’ The king – very much up to date with Glannis role and knowledge on the situation - asked in a soft voice, to which Glanni nodded. In a just as hushed voice, the noble offered up two names, to which the king nodded. ‘’So many.’’ The king hummed with a far-away look as he absently stroked at his beard.

A small silence settled before any of them spoke again.

‘’So you are the one who believes himself to be a better candidate than that of the princess of liars.’’ The king said – the question much more of a statement than anything, to which Glanni rudely snorted.

‘’When you put it like that then yeah.’’ The noble grinned as he leaned back down and absently traced a soft line from the base of the sleeping elfs ear and down his chin. ‘’Not gonna lie, she’s kinda a bit of a two-faced mess.’’

‘’And you rotten souls are not?’’ The king tiredly argued as he too leaned forward and rested his elbows against his thighs. Glanni shrugged a bit tensely before replying.

‘’We might be.’’ The noble hummed on a small pout. ‘’Scratch that, _we are_ , but we’re still better than those other fuckers.’’

Another beat of silence fell before the king continued on a carefully neutral tone. ‘’I suppose I owe you my thanks.’’ He started. ‘’But as it is, our kingdoms are not exactly on friendly terms.’’

‘’We could be.’’ Glanni pressed.

‘’It is not that simple.’’ The king urged. ‘’This union-’’ here he gestured to his sleeping son and then flicked his fingers to the ceiling ‘’should have brought peace to the nation. Now we might face war instead.’’

Glanni shrugged as he leaned up and rested his back against the wall. ‘’So?’’ The noble challenged to which the other blinked.

‘’It might not scare you but it does have me concerned.’’

Glanni tilted his head, eyes narrowing as his gaze turned into a glare. Loudly, he ignored the way Íþróttaálfurinns fingers twitched against his immobile ankle. ‘’You’re not seriously implying that you were ready to sacrifice a son for this shit, right?’’ He practically growled to which the other shook his head.

‘’Of course not.’’ The king pressed. ‘’But something had to be done.’’

‘’And you don’t think that was a little too extreme?’’

‘’And you do?’’

Humming a low, lethal tune, Glanni slowly leaned forward, dagger sharp and ready as he turned it a bit before grabbing the hilt close. ‘’I don’t give a shit about your position or the consequences for it.’’ The noble started as his face split into a bright, humorless grin. ‘’Try to pull a stunt like this again and I’ll stab you in your sleep.’’

The king huffed in an unimpressed manner. ‘’Which is not already what you have been trying to do?’’ He smirked just as mirthlessly.

‘ _’Nah_.’’ Glanni simply rasped in return. The two continued to stare each other down for a good while.

‘’I have no reason to trust you.’’ The king uttered to which the other shrugged.

‘’And I’m not gonna give you one.’’ Glanni hissed in reply as his shoulders tensed - the noble gritting his teeth as he leaned down further to invade the others space. ‘’For all I care, you can fuck right back to-‘’

‘ _’With all due respect_.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn sleepily muttered out as he turned his face and pressed his cool cheek against the nobles ankle. _‘’Could you please take this elsewhere or preferably not at all.’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big yellow elf is definitely gonna throw Glanni in the dungeons.


	7. Safe and tugged away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big yellow elf does some dumb stuff that shows out to be for the better. Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed a bunch of things in my notes and yolo I guess, we're so close to the end that I might as well finish this before going back to 'Mångata'.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying this cause I sure am.

Íþróttaálfurinn realized he had been staring at the same sentence for the past five minutes, his mind understanding the words but not willing to accept them. Worried, he nervously fiddled with the bottom part of a broken pen, its ragged edges scratching against the wood of the table below as he drew it around in slow, tense circles.

‘’You should still be in bed.’’

Íþróttaálfurinn hummed in acknowledgement as the others stern rasp reached him – elf not bothering to turn around and face the other. A few beats of silence passed before Glanni sighed and stalked the small distance up to the table where the elf stood and moments later, Íþróttaálfurinn felt a pair of arms, chilled from the night air, carefully wrap around his torso – the noble mindful of the others bandaged state as he leaned against him.

‘’War.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn said as Glanni rested his chin on his shoulder. ‘’They’ve declared war.’’

Silence once more settled as the noble glanced down and read over the elfs shoulder – the noble humming low in his ear as he re-read a few important lines. ‘’We still got time though.’’ Glanni argued ‘’It seems that it’ll be at least a few months until they strike.’’ The noble pressed. ‘ _’If_ they strike at all.’’

Feeling his back and shoulders calm just a tad, Íþróttaálfurinn allowed himself to relax against the other. ‘’My father can’t do this alone.’’ The elf stressed. ‘’Their forces are too grand.’’

‘’Not if we help you.’’ Glanni clipped in reply. ‘’Our kingdoms might not be on friendly terms or whatever the fuck your dad said, but we can do this.’’

Íþróttaálfurinn let his eyes fall shut and tilted his head towards the others. It was not as if re-reading the letter repeatedly seemed to do him any good. ‘’We still have pressing matters here.’’ The elf practically whispered. ‘’How are we supposed to face an external conflict when we’re currently facing internal as well?’’

Glanni shrugged in a careless fashion before tightening his hold of the other. ‘’One thing at a time, is that not how you usually do it?’’ The noble smirked. ‘’Besides, I’m with you on the internal.’’ He pressed to which Íþróttaálfurinn shook his head.

‘’Not this time.’’ The elf softly argued back. ‘’I want you safe.’’

Glanni had barely uttered a confused ‘ _what’_ before Íþróttaálfurinn had ducked out of his hold, sidestepped and shoved the noble front first over the table - arms pinned behind his back as the elf swiftly set to bind the others hands. ‘ _’What are you doing?’’_ Glanni hissed in a slightly pitched voice to which Íþróttaálfurinn gave a low, humorless chuckle in reply.

‘’I promised you this.’’ The elf said simply in reply, as he spun and hoisted the other up and over his shoulder. Loudly, he ignored both the others frustrated attempts at kicking him in the back and the pained complains from his still healing wounds.

_‘’Íþrótt!’’_

‘’You should really not be surprised.’’ The elf smirked in reply as he narrowly avoided taking Glannis bended knee to the face. ‘’I keep my promises, that’s the one thing you should have noticed by now.’’

 _‘’This isn’t funny Íþrótt_ , don’t be stupid, just _urgh_ , what the hell, would you _not?!’’_ The noble growled as he resorted to try to bite at the others exposed side.

‘’I’m not joking.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn hummed in reply as he managed to get the squirming other through the doorway – the nobles legs stemming hard against it as they had.

Finally, as Íþróttaálfurinn had made it through the castle and started their descent down the winding stairs, Glanni stopped fighting. Below and at the end of it, a single, half-asleep guard greeted them – said guard seemingly confused by the sudden company they found themselves with, but all things considered, it was fair.

It was not as if the castles dungeons often held prisoners, the heavy block of wood outside in the courtyard stained a deep shade of rusty red as it was. Not that there were many executions either, but an average of five a year still seemed an awfully high number.

‘’You’ll get me killed.’’ Glanni rasped on a cold voice as Íþróttaálfurinn stalked to the farthest end and pried a cell door open with one foot. The cells were not designed to be comfortable, but the ones closer to the castle itself tended to be just a bit warmer. Humming softly, the elf slowly shook his head.

‘’You used to brag that no cell could hold you.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn said in reply as he carelessly let the other back onto solid ground and shoved him inside – the door heavy as it rattled shut right after. Glanni tried to jerk away as the elf reached out and held on to the others bound hands – said elfs hold tightened beyond uncomfortable as he swiftly cut the robes.

Immediately, Glanni spun and tried to grab at him.

Unfazed, Íþróttaálfurinn caught one of the nobles wrists and held on with both hands. ‘ _’Prove it._ ’’ The elf urged just as Glanni felt something cool and smooth brush against his inner palm.

Slightly confused, the noble narrowed his eyes at the other before turning his palm slightly to feel at the small object. With a look of sudden understanding, Glannis eyes widened as he spread his fingers and allowed the elf to pass the small dagger.

‘’Is this revenge?’’ Glanni huffed on a voice that sounded slightly impressed as he studied the dagger close. The blade was short and beautifully crafted; not really a spectacular thing, but no doubt deadly if used correctly. ‘’Is that what this is?’’

Humming softly, Íþróttaálfurinn gave a dark, mischievous smirk in return before leaning in.

‘’No one will know you are here, except for the few that needs to know.’’ The elf promised as he turned one of his hands and traced the others tense knuckles. Concentrating, he reached out the other and settled it against the bars, the elf gathering a bit of his own magic, directed it at the bars and finally let it run further down into the floor below as well.

If anyone tried to harm his trapped idiot then not only would he know, but the person would pass out upon touching the bars. This would not give him a lot of time to run on – the noble sure to escape as he was - but hopefully it would be enough.

‘’And you want me to what exactly, sit here and starve?’’ The noble grumbled angrily as he nevertheless seemed to deflate a little.

 _‘’As you said._ ’’ Íþróttaálfurinn replied on another small smirk as he gently tugged the hand still clutching the dagger closer to his own person. ‘’Revenge.’’ He hummed as he gave the others knuckles a quick peck.

‘’Shit timing Íþrótt.’’ Glanni clipped as he jerked his hand back and out of the others hold. ‘’This is really not a good idea.’’

‘’You’ll be safe, I promise you this.’’ The elf said in a low, soft voice. For several moments, Glanni observed him close before rudely, he snorted and spat at the floor beside him.

‘’Why do I got a nasty feeling you’re saying a lot of different things all at once.’’ Glanni mused as he let two fingers trace down the bars in front of him. Humming to himself, the noble withdrew and gingerly rubbed them together. Almost as if it had answered a pressing question of his, Glanni, highly unimpressed, sighed in defeat as he glared back up at the other. ‘’Since when did you use magic like this?’’ The noble asked as he once more narrowed his eyes in suspicion. ‘’Íþrótt.’’ He clipped as he lazily wrapped a hand around the bars and pressed himself against it. ’’What’s going on?’’

‘’See you around.’’

 _‘_ ’Oh _, piss off.’’_

Grinning, Íþróttaálfurinn gave a mock bow and stalked back the way he had come from – elf throwing a quick smirk and a wink at the guard at the end, who promptly collapsed and fell asleep. Upon wakening, the other would remember nothing, nor would he be able to see Glanni as the other left.

Still, he realized, it was possible that he was putting the other in harms way by doing this, but considering the nobles general lack of self-preservation, perhaps this was all for the better.

Besides, he had work to do, that he needed the other not to be present for.

\--

 

‘ _’Are you out of your mind?_ ’’ Robbie demanded as Íþróttaálfurinn, hours later, meet back up with the others. ‘ _’He’s out of his mind.’’_ The prince stated on a slightly pitched voice as he glanced back over at Íþróttaálfurinns mirthful expression. ‘’This is insane.’’ He concluded as he flicked his fingers to the ceiling.

‘’I’m not sure I understand exactly.’’ Sportacus softly spoke up beside the red-faced prince – the elf in question careful but firm as he settled a hand onto Robbies tense shoulder. Immediately, the other calmed. ‘’Why would you lock him away?’’

‘’Glanni would rush in and get himself killed.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn argued.

‘’And you are sure of this _how_?’’ Robbie immediately demanded.

‘’The one who stabbed me.’’ Íþróttaálfurinn elaborated. ‘’They managed to run off and has yet to be reprehended. Glanni kept watch over me for two days straight while I was out. He wished to personally deal with the culprit.’’

Robbie merely blinked for a few seconds before sighing deeply.

‘’And then what exactly.’’ The prince huffed. ‘’Are you planning to ambush them?’’ He practically spat, to which Íþróttaálfurinn grinned.

‘’That is _exactly_ what I’m planning.’’

A small beat of silence settled as Robbie and Sportacus locked eyes.

‘’Tell me you are not the bait.’’ Sportacus pressed as he leaned back against the wall behind him to which Íþróttaálfurinn shrugged.

‘’We have to act quickly.’’ The elf argued. ‘’Time is short enough as it is, especially now and I am _not_ putting any of you, nor Glanni, in direct danger for this.’’

‘’So you’re bait.’’ Robbie deadpanned as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Again, Íþróttaálfurinn shrugged, this time beaming a bright, warm smile at the pair as he did so.

‘’So.’’ The elf started as he spread his hands out wide in front of him, head tilting slightly to the side as he gently clapped once for emphasis. _‘’Here’s the plan.’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck em up Ithro, u can do et

**Author's Note:**

> It's going down. I'm yelling TIMBEEEEEER!!


End file.
